CHAPTER 100

In the afternoon, Chase and I rode our bikes through the quiet countryside roads. The air was fresh, unlike the city, where pollution filled every corner. Here, everything felt calm—just the sound of the wind, the rustling trees, and the occasional chirping of birds.

I took a deep breath, letting the cool breeze brush against my skin. "This is relaxing," I murmured, glancing at Chase, who was riding beside me.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the horizon. The sky was painted in shades of orange, pink, and purple, blending together like an artist’s masterpiece. It was the kind of view that made you stop and appreciate the moment.

I slowed my bike down, staring at the sky. "It's beautiful," I said softly.

Chase pulled over beside me, resting his foot on the ground. "Yeah… I always loved watching the sunset here. It makes everything feel lighter."

We rode until we reached a small park nestled between fields and trees. It wasn’t anything grand like the parks in the city, but it had its own charm—wooden benches, a playground for kids, and a quiet pond reflecting the colors of the sunset.

We parked our bikes near a tree and started walking along the narrow pathway. The air was cool, and the only sounds around us were the distant laughter of kids playing and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Chase walked beside me, his hands tucked in his pockets. "I used to come here a lot when I was a kid," he said, glancing around.

I looked at him. "Alone?"

"Sometimes. But mostly with my grandma," he replied with a small smile. "She used to sit on that bench over there while I played with the other kids."

I followed his gaze to an old wooden bench under a large tree. It looked worn, like it had witnessed countless memories over the years.

"You have a lot of memories here, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Good ones."

I smiled. "Then I'm glad I get to be here."

"Yeah. With me."

He just chuckled.

"Do you want an ice cream?" Chase asked me.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, smiling.

"Alright. I'll buy. Wait here."

I watched as Chase walked toward the small ice cream cart parked near the playground. The vendor, an old man with a kind smile, greeted him warmly, and they exchanged a few words. Chase always had that charm—he could talk to anyone so effortlessly, making them feel comfortable around him.

I smiled to myself, shoving my hands into my pockets as I looked around. The park was peaceful, with a few kids running around, their laughter echoing in the open air. The sunset painted the sky in soft oranges and purples, making everything feel calm and unreal, like a scene from a dream.

I glanced back at Chase. He was pointing at something on the ice cream cart, probably deciding on a flavor. His expression was serious, as if choosing ice cream was the most important decision of his life.

I chuckled quietly.

After a few seconds, Chase came back, holding out an ice cream cone with a mix of flavors.

"Here," he said, handing it to me.

I took it, noticing how the two flavors swirled together. Before I could say anything, he chuckled. "I didn't know which flavor you liked, so I just got this."

I smiled, shaking my head slightly. "It's okay. Any flavor is fine. Thanks."

"Yeah. That's good," he replied, taking a bite of his own ice cream.

I took a small lick, letting the cold sweetness melt on my tongue. As we walked, eating in comfortable silence, I glanced at him. The setting sun cast a warm glow on his face, and for a moment, I wished time could slow down.

Until we got to the playground. The place was quiet, only the sound of the breeze and a few birds chirping in the distance. I turned to Austin and gestured toward the swing set.

"Come on, sit," I said with a small smile.

He raised a brow but followed, settling onto the swing next to mine. He looked around, taking in the familiar surroundings.

"Let me guess," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You used to play here when you were a kid?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, you got it. A lot."

This playground held so many memories—memories I knew he didn't remember. We used to come here all the time, laughing, playing, and making silly promises. But after his accident, it all became a part of the past only I still held onto.

I glanced at him, watching as he absently kicked his feet against the ground, making the swing move slightly. A part of me wanted to tell him everything, to remind him of the childhood we shared. But another part of me was scared—scared that even if I did, it wouldn't change anything.

That he still wouldn't remember. No matter how much I wished he would.

"Remember the boy I told you about?" I asked, my voice quiet as I stared at the swing beside me.

Austin glanced at me, licking his ice cream before answering. "The boy who saved you from bullies?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"What about him?"

I took a deep breath, my fingers gripping the chains of the swing. "I used to play here a lot with him. This place holds a lot of memories with him. This is also where we made a promise to each other."

Austin tilted his head, curious. "What kind of promise?"

I swallowed, hesitating for a moment before answering. "That we'd be best friends forever."

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**AUSTIN's POV**

"That we'd be best friends forever."

I fell silent when he said that.

For some reason, I felt a strange pang in my chest. I didn't understand why, but hearing Chase talk about that boy—the one who saved him, played with him, made promises with him—made me uneasy.

It was obvious that this boy held a special space in Chase's heart. The way his voice softened, the way his eyes reflected nostalgia, like he was longing for something... or someone.

I couldn't help but wonder—if they ever met again, would Chase be really happy?

Would that boy take my place?

I looked away, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up in my chest.

"I see," I muttered, kicking the ground lightly to make the swing move a little. "But how come you can't remember his name? It looks like he was very special to you."

Chase let out a small sigh, kicking the ground lightly to make his swing move. "I don’t know," he admitted. "It’s weird, right? I remember everything else—his voice, the way we used to play here, the promise we made—but his name… it's just blank."

I stole a glance at him. His brows were slightly furrowed, his expression distant, as if he was trying to reach into a part of his memory that refused to unlock.

"He must've been really important to you," I said, my voice quieter than before.

Chase turned to me, studying my expression. "Yeah," he admitted with a small smile. "He is."

I should’ve just let it go. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, "If you met him again, what would you do?"

Chase tilted his head slightly, thinking. "I'd probably thank him for everything."

"Just that?" I asked, my voice coming out a little too sharp.

Chase blinked at me, surprised. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "I mean... he meant a lot to you, right? Wouldn't you want to— I don’t know, reconnect? Be friends again?"

"Of course. We will definitely reconnect."

Chase said it with so much certainty, like there was no doubt in his mind. His eyes held a warmth, a quiet longing, as if he was already picturing the moment he’d meet that boy again.

I forced a small smile, nodding. "Yeah… that makes sense."

But deep down, I hated how uneasy it made me feel. I shouldn't be jealous of someone from his past—someone he doesn't even remember completely. But the way he talked about that boy, the way this place held so many memories of them, made something twist inside my chest.

"Let's just go back. It's getting dark," I said as I stood up from the swing.

But the moment my feet touched the ground, something strange happened. A sudden rush of images—blurry, fragmented—flashed through my mind. It was quick, like a flickering light, here and gone before I could grasp it.

I blinked, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me.

"Austin?" Chase’s voice pulled me back. I turned to him, his brows furrowed in concern.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, forcing a smile. But my heart was racing.

Because even though I couldn't see the memories clearly, one thing was certain. This place—this playground—felt familiar. Too familiar.

*What was that?*

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